


cosmic latté

by songs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crack, M/M, Parody, Reincarnation, This is crack, dreamscape, oikawa is an alien who runs a coffee shop on the moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime stutters, then sputters, before glancing, one last time, through the clear, crystal doors. It’s just like Oikawa’d said— there aren’t any trees or houses outside. Instead, there’s light— spines and spines of light, winding like gleaming roots, dotting the darkness like jewels on ink, like a mosaic of water.</p><p>“I…” Hajime begins. “This…”</p><p>“…is outer space,” Oikawa finishes. “How’d you get here?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	cosmic latté

☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s a strange place, Hajime discovers. The world is a strange place. Thursday evening, and the moon isn’t out yet; so, he spends the gloaming hours roaming past the local shop-windows—  _Sakura Plums_ and  _Sleepy Mart,_ the quiet bookstores, and, oh, damn, looks like the magazine-stand's closed up for the day. Hajime’s always loved getting the glossy, volleyball issues— a hundred yen a pop, but filled with pages and pages of interviews. And  _coupons,_ yeah— Hajime found one for 20% off a pair of brand-name runners, as well as a bunch of other little gems, hidden about.

Okay, you see, what it all comes down to, is: practice let out early, and Hajime is bored. His Mom won’t be home ‘till nightfall, and he doesn’t feel like starting his homework. He never feels like starting his homework. Which is quite the disaster, considering he wants to study medicine someday. Well, crap, you know what they say about youth and dreams. Naiveté, that’s what it all is. BS, and naiveté . Hajime would never admit any of this out loud. In fact, it’s annoying enough in his own head. But whatever. He’ll probably have his homework done by eight p.m., as usual. Because that is who Hajime is. 

Lame, bored. And lonely.

Hajime isn’t sure what he thinks about soulmates. But sometimes, and only sometimes, life feels odd, and kind of slow, like there’s a pace his bones are used to, but he’s chosen, instead, to wade through water. Like— there’s noise and color missing from the day to day, which is dumb as hell, actually, because Japan is known for its storybook landscape, its water and forests. The weird yearning-feeling can  _shove_ it. But it doesn’t. And it won’t. So Hajime spends seventeen years quite bored, and quite lame, and quite lonely.

He’s pondering about his sorry state when he catches the twinkling, note of starlight gleaming overhead. It’s late, he realizes. He should head back. But when he turns down the street that  _should_ lead home, there’s nothing but unfamiliar roads and trees. Closed corner-stores and lightless streetlamps. Shit— did he take a wrong turn, somewhere? While spacing out?

Hajime plucks out his cellphone, which is dead, of course. No worries, though. All the roads in this town lead to the same place, eventually. Hajime just has to walk, and wait for  _eventually._

‘Eventually’, however, takes its sweet time. And Hajime tries not to get skeeved out by the fact that he has spotted exactly  _no one_ on his trek towards some semblance of familiarity.  _Sakura Plum_ and  _Sleepy Mart_ are long gone, and Hajime’s calm is pretty ready to follow. What kind of Studio Ghibli shit did he get himself into? Should he be expecting some poignant rainfall? A convenient river, or wishing-well, which will give him all his answers?

Turns out Hajime doesn’t have to worry about getting spirited away, just yet. Pink-tinted lights blare into view, and Hajime squints, making out the bubble-font sign from afar:  _COSMIC LATTE_. So, alright. He’s officially wandered to someplace that’s far as fuck, far enough to use some tacky, gummy font for their wannabe-Western café. Alright.

He hopes they have a working phone.

That’s really all Hajime is hoping for. But, as usual, it’s hoping for too much. As he pushes through the gem-glass doors of COSMIC LATTE, he is greeted by the prettiest, most familiar looking boy he’s ever seen. He’s standing behind the counter, alone in the empty shop, humming some cheery, candy-tune to himself. Hajime just manages to read his nametag:  _OIKAWA TOORU,_ which debunks the ‘familiar’ thought. Hajime’s never met anyone by that name. 

One might say that’s quite odd. Hajime would only say,  _how about this entire evening?_

So, in an effort to rescue the tethers of his sanity, Hajime clears his throat, and says:

“Uh. Excuse me.”

The boy— Oikawa— blinks, and says, “Huh?”

An airhead. Lovely. “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering, um. Do you have a phone, I could use?”

Oikawa stares at him. “Phone?”

Hajime repeats, “Yes, a phone. Like… communicating device. Cellular.”

“Oh!” Oikawa brightens, smiles with tongue and teeth. “I know of those. Handhelds!”

“I…”  _Hell,_ Hajime realizes.  _This might just be some real dreamscape shit._ “Nevermind. I should go.”

“Wait!” Oikawa calls out. Hajime is already back at the door, but Oikawa is right behind him, with a hand on Hajime’s shoulder before he can even  _breathe._ “Wait,” he says, again, still not moving his winter-cold hand. “You’re a human, right?”

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit._ Balls.  _Shit._ Did Hajime hit his head by the magazine stand? Is this a fever-dream? “Of course I am, dumbass! What else would I be?”

Oikawa doesn’t seem a bit offended. In fact— “I’m kind of impressed. We’ve never had a human stop by these parts.”

“These  _parts?_ You mean, rural  _Japan_?”

“No,” Oikawa says, like he’s completely stupid. “I mean, the moon.”

“ _What_?”

“Well, technically, a small asteroid slightly north of the moon. We have a better view of the constellations, from here—”

Hajime stutters, then sputters, before glancing one last time, through the clear, crystal doors. It’s just like Oikawa’d said— there aren’t any trees or houses outside. Instead, there’s light— spines and spines of light, winding like gleaming roots, dotting the darkness like jewels on ink, like a mosaic of water.

“I…” Hajime begins. “This…”

“…is outer space,” Oikawa finishes. “How’d you get here?”

“I… was walking.”

“Huh,” Oikawa says. “Humans sure are weird. Maybe you found a wormhole, ne? That’s pretty cool!”

“Cool?” Hajime asks. “I… what the hell? I need to go home, listen. I have a paper due, and shit. My  _mom_ …”

Oikawa simply watches him as he goes on and on, an amused expression on his doll-face. Hajime kind of wants to punch him, but he also, for whatever reason, wants to touch him gently. Which makes no sense, but what the hell. Neither does walking into space.

“Say,” starts Oikawa, after Hajime has semi-calmed down. “Do you believe in aliens?”

“Are you gonna tell me that you are one?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Y’know, you’re kind of familiar.”

“Honestly? Same,” Hajime admits. “Also, sidenote. Am I going insane? Did I finally cave, and do drugs, or something?”

“Who knows,” Oikawa supplies. “Hmm. But are you sure we haven’t met? I wouldn’t forget a pretty face~”

“You might need a set of alien-glasses,” Hajime deadpans. “Don’t call me pretty.”

“Okay,” Oikawa says. “ _Pretty._ ”

“It’s Hajime. Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Iwa-chan~” Oikawa singsongs. “You know, I was human, once, before.”

Hajime asks, “Were you?”

“Mm. They say, in this realm of the universe, that the humans on earth are actually bound stars. And those of us out here just managed to return, somehow.”

“That’s weird as shit,” Hajime tells him. “Poetic, though.”

“Right?” Oikawa asks. “Maybe I knew you when I was human.”

“In a past life? That sounds folklorish.”

“I enjoy human folklore.”

“Says the semi-human.”

“Maybe, maybe, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa smiles, then, before shuffling behind the counter. He turns on one machine, and another, prying a pink, Styrofoam cup from the stack beside him. Moments later, he’s striding back, the coffee-cup in his grasp filled to the brim with something milk-white and steaming. He says, “Drink.”

Hajime falters. “Uh… what is it?”

“A cosmic latte.” Oikawa winks. “Although, you seem like you’d be weak with caffeine. This is a warmed, moon-milk.”

 _That sounds like a street-drug,_ Hajime thinks, but he takes the drink, nonetheless. 

“What’ll it do?”

“Smooth your mind. Or soothe it, not sure what human language adheres to, these days. You should be able to cross back to earth, once you finish it.”

“How does that even work?”

“Who knows?” Oikawa asks. “It’s a secret of the universe.”

 _Like how you used to be human,_ Hajime reckons,  _and how I feel like I might’ve known you._

“Why did you leave Earth?” Hajime asks, taking a sip.

“Who knows,” Oikawa says, a third time.

“Will you ever come back?”

“As a human? Beats me. For now, I’m enjoying my time with the stars.”

“You like stars better than people?”

“Stars  _are_ people. And people  _are_ stars. It’s like the quadrilateral, square thing. One or the other.”

“Aliens know math?”

“We know everything.”

“Except the secrets of the universe,” Hajime says, “or why I feel like I know you.”

“I guess so,” Oikawa tells him. 

“Don’t stay out here too long, dumbass,” Hajime says. “You can still see stars and UFO’s from earth.”

“But the  _view,_ Iwa-chan.”

“Fuck the view,” Hajime says, swallowing the last pearl of milk in his cup. “And fuck this moon-shit. It’s  _delicious_.”

Oikawa laughs. “The door’s that way, Iwa-chan.”

“Well…” Hajime hiccups. “I’ll be back, sometime. Or, you could come to earth. Or something.”

“You’re being silly,” Oikawa says. “Goodbye, Iwa-chan.”

“Bye,” Hajime echoes, reaching for the door—

☆.。.:*・°☆

 

-

-

_“What would you say if I told you that I had a dream where you were an alien who ran a coffee-shop on the moon?”  
_

_Oikawa lets out a laugh that lilts like a bell. “I’d say, Iwa-chan, that this is exactly why I’m so in love with you.”_

-

-

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: i don’t do drugs but finals are making me wish i did


End file.
